Taking It Slow
by Marlen
Summary: Scully plans a day of relaxation. Mulder has other plans. There's food, a challenge and a first time for our duo.


TITLE: Taking It Slow (1/2)  
  
AUTHOR: Marlen  
  
E-MAIL: crmv@aol.com  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
KEYWORDS: MSR, UST, RST, Alternating POV's  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Vignette, Romance  
  
SPOILERS: Anything before Requiem  
  
SUMMARY: Scully plans a day of relaxation. Mulder   
has other plans. There's food, a challenge and a   
first time for our duo.  
  
DISTRIBUTION: I'll submit to Gossamer. Otherwise,   
just drop me a note so I can visit!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully do not belong to   
me, they are the property of CC, 1013 productions and   
FOX.  
  
AUTHOR NOTES: This story is a little something I wrote   
in the aftermath of my story Coming Back To You. This   
is a prequel of sorts. I just wanted our agents to   
have some fun before the angst feast. Hey, if George   
Lucas can do it, why can't I?  
  
WARNING: Reading this when you are hungry will only   
instill a greater craving for food.  
  
I have to thank my wonderful betas Georgia and Brandi.   
  
  
  
Now on with the show!  
  
  
  
Taking It Slow (1/2)  
By Marlen  
Completed: July 27, 2000  
  
  
It's the same thing day after day.  
  
I get up as soon as the alarm sounds. I start the   
coffee machine, take a quick shower, dress, have a   
plain bagel, toast or the occasional bowl of cereal   
with my coffee, and dash out the door to start another   
day of chasing after monsters, ghosts, vampires,   
Mulder, you name it.   
  
But today is Saturday and I don't feel like having   
something perfunctory.  
  
I feel like taking it slow.  
  
I feel like turning off the alarm and sleeping in.  
  
I feel like taking a nice long bath instead of a quick   
hop in the shower.  
  
I feel like forgoing my make-up.  
  
I feel like letting my hair dry in its natural curly   
state.  
  
I feel like putting on the oldest, softest jeans I   
have.  
  
I feel like wearing an equally old T-shirt.  
  
I feel like drinking freshly squeezed orange juice.  
  
And I feel like making breakfast from scratch.  
  
I walk into the kitchen and look into the   
refrigerator. Mulder and I just came back from a   
weeklong case in another small 'you name it' town, and   
I haven't had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.  
  
I try to keep it well stocked; I can't stand it when   
I'm hungry at Mulder's. He never has anything in his   
fridge that's seen the light of day since the Bush   
administration.   
  
I shudder just thinking about it.   
  
We always order take out when I'm there. No matter   
what time of day you can always predict what it will   
be. The choices are simple: Chinese, Pizza, deli, or   
greasy burgers. If it weren't for my constant   
exercising, I would weigh 300lbs. That's if I don't   
die first from clogged arteries and high cholesterol.   
  
But not today.  
  
I'm not ordering from a phone.   
  
It's not delivered to me in a box or bag.  
  
And it's not going to have questionable ingredients.  
  
I see that I'm out of a few things, so I grab my keys   
and head out the door to the market around the corner.  
  
I'm back in a flash and start my preparations.   
  
I place the ingredients I need on the counter. Eggs,   
ham, American cheese, shallots, butter, cream,   
oranges, salt and pepper to taste.  
  
I grab the juicer out of the cabinet above the fridge.   
It's brand new. Bill gave it to me on Christmas years   
ago, when I was in my 'juice everything' phase. It   
didn't last long before I realized how easy it was to   
just buy the damn things.   
  
I'm not in the mood for anything processed or   
pasteurized. There's nothing quite like freshly   
squeezed orange juice in the morning.   
  
When I'm done squeezing the life of these things, I   
pour it into a glass pitcher and put it in the fridge.  
  
I crack some eggs and put them in a bowl along with a   
little salt and pepper.   
  
I chop up some shallots and put those into the bowl.   
  
I add little cream to the mixture and mix it with a   
whisk and put it aside.  
  
I take some ham and cut it up into little squares   
while I heat up the pan.  
  
I pour the egg mixture into it. After a few minutes,   
I top one side of the omelet with ham and cheese, wait   
another minute, then fold the untopped side over and   
take it out when I see the melted cheese oozing out.  
  
It smells divine. I pour myself a glass of the juice   
I just made and take it along with my omelet to the   
table. I'm about to dig in when hear a loud knock at   
the door.   
  
I sigh. I knew this peace and quiet was too good to   
be true.  
  
I drag myself over to the door and open it without   
hesitation.  
  
*Gee, big surprise.*  
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
"Hey Mulder." She says without looking up. *Doesn't   
she know how dangerous it is to do that? I could be   
anyone and she just opened the door.*  
  
"Scully, what if I was an attacker ... "  
  
But then I see what she is wearing and I lose my   
capacity for speech.  
  
I can't believe my eyes.  
  
She's wearing a very worn pair of jeans, which have a   
rip displaying her very lovely knee. I can also tell   
the fit is a little snug on her.  
  
She is also wearing her old Michigan T-shirt, which I   
have seen her wear numerous times, but I've never seen   
her in those jeans before.  
  
"Relax Mulder, I knew it was you."  
  
She stands there as I take her in. She's not wearing   
an inch of make-up. I can see her barely noticeable   
freckles across her cheeks. It makes her look years   
younger.  
  
And that hair! I knew her hair wasn't naturally   
straight but I never knew how curly her hair really   
got when she doesn't blow dry it.  
  
Her voice disrupts my musings. "Mulder? Earth to   
Mulder. Are you coming in? My food is getting cold."  
  
*Food?* I sniff and smell an aroma that couldn't come   
from a box. Scully's cooking? And it's not burning?   
I walk in to her apartment. "Scully, are you cooking   
something?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
"What's with." I motion my hand up and down her body.  
  
"I just felt like taking today slow and relaxing."  
  
A smile tugs at my lips "Kind of like *snow day* when   
you're a kid, uh?"  
  
"Yup, kind of like that." She smiles at me and I know   
I've been busted. She turns and starts to walk   
towards the kitchen and I can't seem to get my eyes   
off her ass. *My God, does she know what she's doing   
to me?*  
  
Okay, I need to focus on something else "What's that   
ya making there Scully?"  
  
"Omelets."  
  
*Omelets? Scully knows how to make omelets? Scully   
can cook? Since when? What's with her today?*  
  
"Mulder I have enough for one more if you're   
interested."  
  
As if I could refuse, "Sure, I mean, if it's no   
trouble." I don't want to sound eager.  
  
She smiles "No Mulder, it's no trouble."  
  
She pours the rest of the mixture into the pan then   
hands me a glass of orange juice, and it's good. Very   
good. "This is good. Where did you get this juice   
Scully?"   
  
"From oranges Mulder." She deadpans.   
  
"Very funny." Smart ass.  
  
"It's freshly squeezed." She says as she hands me the   
omelet. "What's up Mulder?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
I look around her apartment "I thought I would take it   
slow too."  
  
She gives me this 'you're so full of shit Mulder'   
look, but nods her head and says "Ah, taking it slow   
is good to do once and a while."  
  
I don't think she and I are thinking the same thing.  
  
Maybe I can change that.  
  
"This is really good Scully. Where did you learn to   
make this."   
  
"Mulder, believe it or not I can actually cook. I   
just never have the need to. With it just being me   
and all."  
  
"Hey, you can cook for me as much as you like."  
  
"Is that an invitation?" She's got a neutral look and   
I can't tell if she's kidding or not and my defenses   
go up.  
  
"I know you must have a story to go with these omelets   
of yours." She smirks a little. Am I that   
transparent?   
  
"Actually there is. When I first got to college I   
befriended a guy named George. We ended up in the   
same classes together. I thought at first he was   
stalking me or something. It was too much of a   
coincidence that he had the same schedule as me, but   
that's all it was. Anyway, his parents wanted him to   
become a doctor just like mine did."  
  
"Kindred sprit, eh?"  
  
"Yea, I developed a crush on him and really wanted to   
go beyond the friendship thing."  
  
I hate the thought of anyone with her besides me of   
course, but curiosity gets the better of me "Did you   
guys date?"  
  
"We did for a bit, but nothing really developed. We   
were better as friends."  
  
*I hope she doesn't think about us that way.* She   
must have seen my disappointed look because she then   
says, "It was for the best. It never would've worked   
out."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He fell in love with someone else." She says in a   
matter-of-fact kind of way.  
  
"Let me guess, he was going out with you and another   
girl at the same time."  
  
"Something like that. It doesn't matter. I wasn't   
his type."   
  
*Oh Scully don't sell yourself short.*   
  
"You might be his type though."  
  
*Oh, now I get it.*   
  
"Anyway, he was a great cook and made the most amazing   
dishes. He taught me how to make omelets; I adjusted   
it to my own tastes. I was more upset that I would be   
losing a personal chef than a boyfriend, when we   
broke-up"  
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
"Whatever happened to him?"  
  
"Last I heard, he confronted his parents with his   
lifestyle and while he was at it added the fact that   
he didn't want to be a doctor. As expected, they cut   
off his financial support. He wanted to be a chef and   
got a full scholarship to The Culinary Institute of   
America, he transferred there."  
  
"It must have been tough for him to confront his   
parents back then." He says as he helps me clear the   
dishes and stick them into the dishwasher.  
  
I nod. "I'm just glad he had Aiden for support. I   
don't know what happened to him after that."  
  
With breakfast finished, we settle on the couch when I   
realize Mulder distracted me from my question.  
  
With a puzzled look "Mulder, why did you come over   
today?"  
  
"I told you."  
  
"Uh, no. No you didn't."  
  
He scoots a little closer to me so we are shoulder to   
shoulder. I can feel his burning skin next to mine.   
It's enough to be my undoing. He's wearing a gray T-  
shirt and jeans. It really shows off his best assets.   
"I'm hurt Scully. I thought we were friends as well   
as partners. Do I need an excuse to stop by and say   
hi?"  
  
He is right. Our relationship has progressed from   
partnership to friendship to ... what are we now? I'm   
not sure if there is a name for it, but I know that   
the next step is inevitable. The pull between us is   
constant and I know that the time for us to converge   
is coming soon.   
  
I try to act nonchalant "No, you're right, we are   
friends. It's just usually you have a case or   
something else to discuss."  
  
He leans down close to my ear and whispers "I'll let   
you in on a little secret Agent Scully. It's always   
an excuse to see you."  
  
I can't help but smirk and make a smart-ass remark,   
"Tell me something I don't know." I turn my head and   
he doesn't pull away. He's so close I feel his breath   
tingle my ear. He's looking at my lips and I suppress   
a shutter.   
  
I wonder if we're thinking the same thing?  
  
His lips are so close to mine. I can't handle it any   
more and start to move towards those beautiful pouty   
lips of his, but then he pulls back. *Ahhh!* He   
grins and I can tell the wheels are turning in his   
head *Bastard* "I can cook too you know."  
  
I try not to show my surprise and disappointment   
"Well, I can't wait to witness your cooking abilities   
Agent Mulder. I didn't know you had any."  
  
His eyebrows move up and down in a leer "I'm full of   
surprises, Agent Scully."  
  
"You're full of something alright." I mumble under my   
breath.  
  
"What did you say?" I know he heard me.  
  
I ignore his question and I say sarcastically "I   
thought it was a challenge just to pick up the phone   
and call for takeout."  
  
Swiftly, he gets up, grabs his jacket and heads   
towards the door.  
  
*What the hell?* "Where are you going?"  
  
With the most adorable grin that makes my insides melt   
and want to hit him at the same time, he turns towards   
me and says, "I never back down from a challenge."   
  
Puzzled I say, "But it's only 11:30!"  
  
"If I'm going to do this right, I need time to   
prepare." He turns back around and when he opens the   
door to leave he makes one more statement "Be at my   
place at eight sharp."   
  
I'm extremely curious as to what exactly he has   
planned. I get up and start my own preparations for   
the evening ahead.  
  
  
End of part 1  
  
Did I mention feedback is good for the soul?  
  
Crmv@aol.com   
  
  
  
  
  
Taking it Slow (2/2)  
By Marlen  
  
See disclaimer in part one.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
I close the door behind me and walk down the hall. My   
gleam turns into gloom. I just had to open my mouth   
and tell her I can cook. *Shit* I've really backed   
myself into a corner, haven't I?  
  
I've got to think.   
  
Think Mulder think.  
  
Who can I call to help me?  
  
Can't call Frohike, he'll be all over me with   
questions. Who is it you're entertaining Mulder?   
Would it be one delectable little redhead? You guys   
finally do the wild thing Mulder?  
  
I've got it!  
  
I'll call her mother; she likes me and already knows   
how I feel about her daughter. I think I can trust   
her not to spill the beans on my inability to cook   
anything resembling food.  
  
I grab my cell and dial.  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Scully? It's Fox Mulder ... no, Dana's   
okay ... okay, Maggie ... I'm sorry to bother you, but   
I was wondering if you could help me with something   
..."  
  
We converse for a while and with a plan already in   
progress, I get into my car and head home.  
  
I walk into my apartment and realize another challenge   
awaits me. My place is a mess and I don't know where   
to start.  
  
I start in the living room, picking up my discarded   
jogging shirt and pants from the couch, a sweatshirt   
on my computer chair and the matching pants on the   
coffee table. I walk over to the bedroom and see that   
I have heaps of clothes everywhere. I pick up the   
clothes and go to put them in the hamper when I notice   
the hamper is already overflowing. Which I believe is   
a big sign that I have to do laundry. I put my   
clothes into the laundry basket and go down to the   
laundry room.  
  
With my clothes washing, I decide to clean up the   
kitchen. I walk in there and shutter at what I see.   
Dirty plates and glasses since I don't know when are   
piled up in the sink. I think for a moment on how   
easy it would be to just throw it all away into the   
garbage, but I don't. I'm surprised to find   
dishwashing liquid in the cabinet. I wonder if Scully   
bought it for me as a hint, because I don't remember   
buying it for myself. I put the plates in the machine   
and turn it on.   
  
After I wipe the counters down, I attack the   
refrigerator. When was the last time I threw anything   
out of here? I can't remember. I throw out anything   
past its prime, which is pretty much everything.  
  
With my clothes cleaned and put away, I look around   
the apartment to see the progress I have made. *Not   
bad, not bad at all!*  
  
I start thinking about Scully. I really wanted to   
kiss her when I was at her apartment this morning and   
I'm pretty sure she wanted to kiss me too, but a plan   
started to form and I wanted to surprise her with my   
unknown abilities. So unknown, I didn't even know I   
had it. So what if I haven't cooked for someone in a   
decade. How hard can it be? Besides, maybe if   
everything works out tonight, she'll let me make her   
breakfast as well?  
  
I realize time is ticking away and boot up my computer   
to print out the recipe Scully's mother graciously   
sent me. She offered to make the meal and bring it   
over, but I insisted that I make it. I could hear her   
smile as she said, "Okay dear, but feel free to call   
me if you need any help." As soon as it comes out of   
the printer, I grab it and head out the door to the   
grocers.  
  
It takes me an hour to find all of the ingredients   
plus a couple of extra things to enhance the mood of   
the evening.   
  
After I bought the groceries, I stop by a wine shop   
and can't decide on what to get. Wine isn't my strong   
suit, so I ask the manager if he could recommend   
something. After telling him what kind of food I   
wanted it to go with, he recommends a Chardonnay and I   
buy it.   
  
I also pass by a flower shop and have to get a single   
red rose. I'm pulling out all the stops.   
  
According to Mrs. Scully the recipe should be easy to   
follow. Even for someone like me. *I wonder what   
Scully told her about me?*   
  
I get to my apartment and start my preparations.   
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
Mulder left to make dinner. I laugh at the thought of   
it. He has never, and I mean NEVER lifted a single   
finger to make anything. I doubt he even knows how to   
use the oven. Does he even KNOW where the oven is?  
  
I once snuck a bottle of dishwashing liquid under his   
sink to see if he would ever use it.   
  
He hasn't.  
  
Knowing him, he'll go out to some fancy restaurant and   
order something outrageous and claim it as his own.   
Until I make him confess anyway. I'm confident that I   
can get it out of him.   
  
As part of my 'taking it slow' day, I decide to pamper   
myself. As I am coming back from my manicurist at the   
mall, I leisurely walk past a window and something   
catches my attention. It's the most gorgeous sweater.   
It was baby blue and has a V-neck. I go in to try it   
on. It hugs my body perfectly. A wicked smile   
crosses my lips as I imagine Mulder's reaction when he   
sees me in it.   
  
*Oh, I think he'll confess now.*  
  
I decide to go for 'the casual with an underlying   
sexuality' look to drive Mulder over the edge and try   
on a pair of black fitted pants.   
  
I don't think of myself as attractive, but I'm not   
stupid. I try to stay in shape and I'm pretty sure   
Mulder likes what he sees. I look at myself in the   
mirror *Oh, ya! This is going to be fun.*   
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
I'm finishing the final touches when I hear a knock at   
the door. As predicted, she's right on time. I go to   
open it. "Hey Scully." I didn't think anything could   
top 'casual Scully' until I am met with what I've just   
named 'Kill me now cause I've just gone to heaven   
Scully' I may name it more appropriately later, when   
the blush I'm pretty sure I am wearing goes away.  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
I never realized how evil Scully can be until I laid   
my eyes on her. She is wearing a sweater that matches   
the color of her eyes. I can'thelp but look at   
how low her V-neck goes. And I think I would remember   
those pants.   
  
"Mulder."  
  
Her hair isn't as wild as it was this morning; it   
looks like it did when we were on that Arcadia   
assignment. It was hard staying away from her then.  
  
"MULDER!" I look back at her face. She is trying to   
look as serious as possible, but I can tell by her   
eyes how much she is enjoying this.  
  
Is she trying to torture me? "You're right on time   
Scully, come on in."  
  
"Smells good in here Mulder."   
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Anything I can help you with?" She starts towards   
the kitchen, but I stop her. I want to surprise her   
with what I have done. The expression 'slaving over a   
hot stove' applies here. "No, I've got everything   
covered. Make yourself comfortable Scully."  
  
She looks flustered and I wonder why, until she looks   
around the room. There are candles all around and   
soft classical music in the background. Her face   
softens and she smiles a little. She concedes,   
heading in the direction of the couch.  
  
I get the chicken out of the oven. I'm surprised it   
turned out so well. I prepare our plates and put them   
on my table and light the candles.   
  
I motion for Scully to come over and I pull out the   
chair for her to sit in. "Madam your feast awaits   
you."  
  
"Aren't we being chivalrous." She quips and then   
looks down at her plate. From the look on her face, I   
think she's impressed by the meal in front of her.  
  
I leave the room and come back with the wine I had   
purchased earlier. With a pop, I open it and pour it   
the wineglasses I also got at the wine shop.  
  
She takes a bite "This is really good Mulder."   
  
"Thank you." It pleases me to no end that she likes   
it.  
  
"What do you call it?"  
  
"It's Lemon-Rosemary Chicken."  
  
We are having a really nice time having small talk   
about anything other than work. I take a good look at   
her as she sips her wine. She really does look   
radiant tonight.   
  
She puts her glass down, stares right into my eyes and   
says in a playful voice "Okay Mulder, fess up!"  
  
She surprises me out of my thoughts.  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
Does he think I'm stupid? The meal was too good to   
come from him. "Come on Mulder. I know you got this   
from somewhere. I mean, you don't know how to saut‚   
asparagus, do you?"   
  
He looks taken aback and I doubt the comment I made.   
Did he really cook this meal himself? His looks   
change to a smile "Scully, I'm flattered that you   
think my food is worthy of fine dining status."  
  
I sit back in the chair and think for a second before   
responding. "Are you telling me you went out, bought   
the ingredients and made this meal all by yourself?"  
  
"That's what I did."   
  
He gets up, takes our plates to the kitchen. I'm   
still not convinced and I follow suit.  
  
He starts up the coffee and as I walk into the   
kitchen, I see the evidence of someone who actually   
cooked a whole meal. Pots and pans recently used on   
the stove and ingredients spread on the counter.   
  
Mulder turns towards me "Scully, I'm not finished   
yet."   
  
"Mulder you made this amazing meal. The least I can   
do is help clean up."  
  
"Out!" he scoots me out of there.   
  
I settle on the couch and he comes back with a fresh   
cup of coffee and a plate of dessert. He's full of   
surprises today. "Mulder, you made dessert too?"  
  
With a sheepish grin he says "No, this I bought."   
  
I look at what he gave me and smile; "You know what I   
like."   
  
He looks at it and waves it in front of my nose so I   
can smell it. "It's a New York style cheesecake topped   
with strawberries and sauce."   
  
I look around. "Where's yours?"  
  
"I thought we could share." I wonder if he can see   
the blush on my face, but I'm not about to refuse.   
  
I guess this outfit worked better than I thought.   
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
  
I take her silence as a yes. I proceed to take the   
spoon, scoop a piece of the cheesecake on it along   
with some of the strawberry sauce and feed her. She   
watches me do this and as I put the spoon in her mouth   
she closes her eyes savoring the flavor. I take a   
strawberry and place it in her mouth, she takes a bite   
of it. It is the single most erotic thing I have ever   
seen. "Mmmmm." She groans and it's taking all of my   
will power not to grab her right now. She's teasing   
me and I immediately feel the effect she has in my   
groin.  
  
She opens her eyes and licks her lips. "It's very good   
Mulder, you should try some." Without breaking eye   
contact, she grabs the spoon and scoops some of the   
cheesecake and sauce. She slowly places the contents   
in my mouth. I don't know if it's the cheesecake or   
her making it so delectable. I think it's the latter.   
She then darts her eyes to my mouth and gives me an   
evil grin. I realize some of the sauce is dripping   
down my chin. She moves towards me. I'm frozen by   
her boldness. Her concentration is focused on the   
spot the sauce has claimed. She's closer and I feel   
lightheaded. She closes her eyes. Before I know it,   
she's licking the sauce off my chin.   
  
I take that as a sign. I take my hands, cup her face   
and bring her lips to mine for a long, deep, sensual   
kiss. We part, glance at each other and come together   
again in hungry kisses. We're groping each other like   
teenagers now. I can't get enough of her. I want her.   
Not just right now, but for as long as she'll have me.   
She stops me and I think she doesn't want this as much   
as I do. "Mulder." She says breathlessly.  
  
I'm disappointed, but respect her decision "Scully, I   
understand."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
She gets up and so do I. I assume she's leaving, but   
then she grabs my hand and proceeds to walk towards   
the bedroom. "Scully?"  
  
She stops, turns and gives me a sympathetic look.   
"Before you ask, it's what I want. Is it what you   
want?"  
  
"If you only knew for how long."  
  
I notice her eyes darken significantly, she clasps my   
hand with hers and pulls me again towards the bedroom.  
  
Our clothes drop along the way and we stumble into the   
bed. I'm constantly touching and examining her,   
making sure she is real. That this is really   
happening. I don't want to wake up and realize it was   
only a fantasy.   
  
Our lovemaking is everything it should be, soft and   
passionate yet at the same time intense and exciting.   
  
My fantasy has turned into reality.  
  
Scully is asleep with her face on my shoulder. I gaze   
at her beautiful face, touch her lips with my fingers   
and say in barely a whisper "My Scully". I'm amazed   
on how comfortable and natural that sounded coming   
from my mouth. It's like we've been together like   
this for years. It's nice. Very nice!  
  
We are entwined, not only in sheets that surround us,   
but in our souls as well and I know that no matter   
what the future has in store for us we can handle it,   
together.   
  
I tighten my hold on her, kiss her head and think   
about what I should make for breakfast in the morning.  
  
  
  
~End~  
  
  
AUTHOR NOTES: The omelet part came to me when I was   
making omelets one morning and a light bulb suddenly   
appeared over my head. I figured I would just follow   
my muse and see where it would take me!  
  
As my boyfriend so assiduously pointed out (rolling   
eyes-he's a chef), the omelet featured in this story   
is my own creation and not the actual way to make a   
traditional omelet.   
  
If you enjoyed it, please let me know at crmv@aol.com   
  
  



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